Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love
by Lady Feylene
Summary: A Severus/Remus romance, heavily influenced by Moulin Rouge. (Slash)


****

Disclaimer: No one is mine, not really. I just like to borrow them and play with them like finger puppets.

****

Warning: Slash, what else. Not too bad though, PG-13.

****

Dedication: For Kitten, because without her I never would have been inspired.

****

Author's Note: I was inspired. More inspired then I've been in a very, very long time. Yes, this fic was heavily influenced by Moulin Rouge. Beautiful, beautiful movie. I love the plot, the music, everything. And all through all of it, all I could think of was Sev and Remus. And so it started this story. I wanted to capture the feel of the movie, but with a semi-original story. This is just the first chapter. :-)

****

Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love.

****

Chapter One

The Greatest Thing

It was a complete accident, how I came to find Severus Snape the year following graduation. I had wandered, at first, unsure of where to go or what to do. My family offered me no help, not that I expected any. I packed up my few possessions and set off into the world. I had dreams. I had aspirations. I was going to do great things. I would find my fortune and carve my name into the world!

I was broke within two weeks. But I didn't give up hope. I found myself in the town of Southwick, a rather tawdry place. It was a hodgepodge of boarding houses, brothels, taverns and thieves' dens. Not exactly where I'd planned on ending up, but it was the sort of place that a young man of my particular status could live unnoticed. If I were oddly absent for a few nights a month, no one would ask any questions. And if I were to slip in, clothes ragged and torn, perhaps even covered in blood, anyone who saw me would turn a blind eye.

It was here that I truly fell in love with darkness. I'd always courted it, being what I was. But now I gave myself over to it. I discovered great beauty in darkness. In the prostitute leaning idly against the lamp post, to the garish lights above the Wolf's Den. It was all beautiful! I decided to put all of this seedy beauty into words. I would be a writer! 

I'd always had a way with the written word, always turned to the pen and page in times of trouble. Why not try and turn a profit from it? Stories abounded in this place, and I would write them all. I found myself a dirty little motel room, overlooking the small river that cut the town in two. I got myself a typewriter and plenty of ink, and I sat down to write.

But nothing came. I had observed snatches of lives and stories, but I had never truly immersed myself in one. How could I write anything, standing on the edge of life? I would have to delve into the underworld, purely for inspiration. So I covered my typewriter against dust, brushed my tawny colored hair out of my face, and went out into the night.

The nightclubs were the center of activity. I had always felt myself particularly drawn to the Wolf's Den, if only because of the name. It was a medium sized building, in what used to be an old theater. The type with balconies and red carpets, and the flashing red lights above the double doors. Where black and white words once spelled out things such as 'Casablanca' and 'The Maltese Falcon', they now promised: 'The Wildest Time in All England", and 'Something For Everyone'. It was rumored to be the home of debauchery, the very pulse point of the British underworld. And this was where I would find my story!

I passed unnoticed into what I had assumed would be a dim interior. I was very wrong, I soon found. The inside was garishly lit, flashing colored lights and flooding neon. The music was blaring, loud and angry, throbbing through the floor and walls. It enveloped me immediately, enfolding me. My sensitive ears recoiled from it, but I pressed forward. The dance floor was packed, scantily clad bodies gyrating against one another. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, and I had to steady myself. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted. There was a stage at the far end of the room, and hot floodlights bathed it in naked golden light. There was some sort of band playing, all in leather and long of hair. There was a bar. There was a staircase. It was all very wild and exciting, at least to such an innocent as myself.

I drank it in. The sights, the smells, the sounds. Were I not what I was, I would have immediately gone to the bar and ordered the most outrageous drink I could think of. But being what I was, I stayed far away from the drink. So I instead contented myself with observing the patrons of this shabby genteel establishment. Mostly they were young, around my age. They ranged from eighteen to twenty five, with a few more wizened faces among them. I was approached by a few young men and women, begging a dance. I said no. These were not the types I wished to learn about. Where were the prostitutes, the purveyors of illegal substances! 

I made my way closer to the stage, feeling warm, slick bodies pressed against me. I wanted to find the truly illicit. I stopped and asked, pulling on the sleeve of a young man in shining green and black. I asked him where to find the lords and ladies of the night, not feeling too self conscious. Look at where I was! He pointed me to near the stairs. I squinted, and in the phosphorescence I could see them. Lean, tightly clad figures lounging about the pathway to the upper rooms. They had a lazy look to them, catlike and serene. Now and then the red flash of a cigarette tip rose and fell in a graceful arch. I fell in love with all of them at once.

I slipped closer. The women seemed all curves and silk. Long hair, large breasts, wide eyes and curved hips. They were not to my taste at all. Not that I was looking for a lover, simply inspiration. The men were different, but still not what I was looking for. Large biceps instead of breasts, and broad of shoulder, short of hair with a five o'clock shadow obscuring their face. I sighed, and let my eyes trail further, until they fell on *him*.

He was standing on the stairs themselves, leaning against the railing. His hair was long, falling in a jet black sheet about his face, only thin strips of pale white flesh showing through. It was like shadow and light masking his features from me. He was lean and made of angles, clothed in tight blackness. His was the cigarette I had seen. I was in love already. My heart went out to him, this child of the night. He couldn't be much older then me, but so haunted. He was lean and harsh, cold almost, as though he had been carved of ice and starlight. This was what I had been looking for! I needed him. I needed to speak with him, to touch him, to make love to him. I wanted him for my own, suddenly and completely. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How would I approach him? He made me think of the elfin changelings in the stories, too beautiful to truly be human. But I was a Gryffindor, I could do this thing.

I opened my eyes to look to him again, but he was gone.

***

I left the Wolf's Den feeling dejected and empty. I could not find him again, no matter how I searched. No one knew where he was, who he was. He was one of the fallen, but I knew that already. He belonged to the club. Did I wish to procure his services? I said no, of course, and left. I didn't want him like that. I slunk up to my room, and stared down at the river, the image of my nameless spirit haunting my mind. Who was he? What was in his mind, in his heart. Could he love me, as I loved him?

A part of my mind laughed at myself. I'd always been ridiculously obsessed with love and romance, to the point of being teased by my more physically fixated friends. But what was the point of a lover, without love? And to those who believe that love could only grow after years, they are wrong. Love happens in the blink of an eye. And it had struck me, it seemed. I knew, somehow, that no matter the thoughts and dreams of this youth, I would love him. I loved him already. And I would write of him.

I was inspired. I sat down before my typewriter, fingers at the ready. I began to write him, painting him with my words. The elegant waterfall of his hair, the line of his hip, the lean curve of his thigh. I could imagine his eyes, steely blue, or depthless black. His face would be Grecian, angles and lines and points. And his name...

I could not continue without a name. I would call him-for the time being-Apollyon. I had always liked that name, and it seemed to fit my changeling prince. How had he come to this libertinism? What had caused his fall from grace? I could fabricate a story, should I truly wish. Perhaps he was the second son of a noble family, cast aside in favor of his elder brother. But, considering he was a muggle, I highly doubted that was truly the case. A part of me feared he had come to this by mundane ways. But no. Not him. 

I closed my typewriter, puzzled by this new writer's block. But I had begun. I had painted a beautiful word picture, pouring my heart and soul into his written image. And the next night, I would return again to find him. 

***

I found I had little clothing appropriate for Southwick nightlife. Faded jeans were not exactly the height of fashion. But I did what I could, not caring anymore. I had become obsessed with finding Apollyon. I selected the most daring of my shirts, a red satin number that had originally belonged to Sirius Black, a school hood friend and sometimes lover. I could have loved him, had he been a different a person. He loved life, yes, but not the right aspects of it. He loved physical pleasure, and tangible beauty, and what muggles call 'the fast lane'. He couldn't have given me what I wanted. And his heart belonged to another.

Perhaps it was my experiences with Sirius that made me what I was, in respects to mental standpoints. I had known what it was like to take a lover without true love, and I did not like it. I needed love, to be well and truly loved. And to return that love with all of my heart.

Back to the Wolf's Den. Into the phosphorescence, my eyes closing instinctively against the glare. The music was the same, loud and throbbing and sensual. I could feel it in the soles of my feet, traveling up my body. I shuddered, giving myself over to it. Immediately I went to the dim staircase, where the sons and daughters of joy congregated. There they were, curves and muscles and soft sensuality. But where was Apollyon? I could see my changeling nowhere. I began to panic. Had I imagined him, this beautiful creature of the night? Had my obsession with inspiration and love and beauty transcended into full hallucination? 

How possible was it, that I would find in a nightclub of ill repute, exactly what I had been searching for all my life? No very, in all honesty. And yet, I felt I had. I had glimpsed him for only a second. Were I of normal blood, I would have doubted my eyes. But my senses never lie to me. Which led me to believe I had not hallucinated. I doubted my senses would *allow* me to hallucinate. I had seen him. He had been real.

He belonged to the club, someone had told me. Maybe the manager or proprietor would know, would give me some sort of help. But I was too afraid that the response would be 'there's no one like that 'ere.'

I had no other choice, though. And I would know, one way or another. But I was more convinced he had been there, lounging against the railing in impurity. I began to squeeze through the crowd, to ask the bartender. They knew these sorts of things. I pushed and nudged my way through, until I was outside of the dance floor. Here, in the area surrounding the bar, there were less people. I let my eyes scan the thinned crown, just in case.

There he was! Even from behind, I knew it was him, my angel, my changeling, my Apollyon. His black leather pants clung to his lean backside, and there was a pale strip of flesh at the small of his back, where his tank top ended. His hair was loose, falling about his shoulders. It was sleek and shiny, and I imagined it to be like liquid silk through my fingers. He moved with a feline grace, hips swaying slightly as he moved, shoulders strait. I sped up, my hand reaching out to clasp him on the shoulder. The bone was sharp there, and the skin soft. he turned, and I held my breath as his hair swept back from his face, revealing to me arched cheekbones, pointed chin, and pale skin.

He was perfection. He was beauty made flesh. He was everything I have ever longed for or imagined. He was...

He was Severus Snape.

My world cascaded into confusion. I made as though to speak, but no words came out. The strangest thoughts were clear and coherent in my mind. I had been right, his eyes were black. 

I could tell, in some small sane part of my mind, that he was as taken aback as I was. His think-yet sensual, I still noted-lips tightened into a line, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. We stood like that, staring at one another, for an uncountable number of minutes. Now I wanted to know more then ever.

How had he come to this? My classmate, rival, and source of constant fear. He knew my secret. He hated me for it. And I had always found him darkly beautiful. He had showed a promising future. Why was he here, selling himself in a muggle nightclub?

"Severus." I breathed his name, my eyes traveling over his figure. How had I never noticed how captivating he was? Lean as he was, he was well muscled. His stomach was flat and defined, his arms smooth and hard. His eyes were amazing. Black and deep, startling in his pale, arching face.

"What are *you* doing here?"

He spat it, as though my mere presence was to annoy him. I composed myself, or tried. I didn't know what to do. This was the creature I had fallen in love with. 

"Looking for you." I answered, stupidly. I didn't even consider what my words may have meant, not until I saw teh sudden flaring of his nostrils and he took a step away from me.

"What?" 

"Oh, no!" I was quick to assure him, holding up my hands in what I hoped was a calming gesture. "Not you, as in Severus, you as in...you." I was making no sense. I spoke quickly, seeing that now he was looking at me as though I were insane. "I saw you, last night. I didn't know you were *you*. No one could tell me who you were, and I wanted very much to talk to you...I had no idea."

"Quite." He folded his arms, looking *me* over in turn. I had always been very self conscious about how I looked. I found my hair far to thick and unmanageable, and it was an odd color. A sort of tawny streaked with light brown, with barest hints of grey even at this young age. My face was too square, my eyes an unnatural golden brown. And I found my body far too bulky, even though I had been told many times it was not. I longed for a figure like Severus', but my shoulders were a touch too broad, my chest a bit too full. "And why, may I ask, were you looking for me?"

"I said, to speak with you." I repeated. "Please, could we talk?"

"No." Severus shook his head. "Time is money, Lupin. And I can't afford to waste either."

"Please!" I was about to lose him again. "I'll buy you dinner, and we can talk there."

He seemed to consider it, still eyeing me. I felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze. What was he looking for?

"Fine." he nodded curtly. I sighed, releasing a breath I didn't even know I had been holding. I nodded in turn, led him out of the club, looking over my shoulder often to make sure he was following. He was. I knew of a very small cafe not too far, of prices I could afford. I took him there, silent all the way. He was not pleased with this, I could tell. I thought no less of him, for what he did. There was no shame in selling yourself, it was the oldest profession. 

When we were settling, I began. I had so many questions, that I hardly knew where to start. I licked my lips, not deterred by the sullen scowl that marred Severus' perfect features. Please realize, when I say perfect, I mean perfect only to myself. I was well aware that plenty of others would hold him in distaste. But not me.

"How?" Was the only word that escaped my lips.

"That's rather personal, Lupin." Severus snapped, leaning back. "I would ask you the same thing."

"You want to know why I'm here?" I didn't care. "I want to be a writer. I came here for inspiration."

"That's all?" He was skeptic.

"Well, mostly. I came here for other things, too. To find myself, my fortune, life, love, and all of that."

"And you expect to find it here?" He barked a sarcastic laugh. "You're a fool Lupin. All you'll find here is a hooker to keep your bed warm a night."

"No." I shook my head. "I'll find much more, I know it. I already have."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.

"I found you." I said, shrugging. I knew no, more then ever, that I needed Severus. I needed him more now then before. 

"Me?" He eyed me suspiciously. "And you're going to keep that to yourself."

"Of course, of course. But...Severus, what happened?" 

"I ran into a bit of trouble." Severus said with a shrug. And I'd learn later what that trouble was. But at that point, he didn't elaborate. He left it there, and I accepted it.

"Come back with me." I pleaded, never having been good with tact.

"No. I've fulfilled my end of this little deal, and so have you. We're finished." He stood up, and I had to act quickly.

"Severus, think! Don't you think it's too big of a coincidence that we would find each other, here, like this?" I grabbed his wrist. "That of all the people, all the places in the world, it would be us, here?"

"Stranger things have happened." He pulled his hand away.

"It's fate!" I said, running after him. I couldn't lose him! "How can you ignore fate?"

"Like this." He gave me a sardonic smile and continued walking away.

"Please, Severus...I can't lose you."

"What?" He turned, slowly, cocking his head to look at me.

"When I saw you..." I threw all caution to the wind. What did it matter, now? I was close to losing him anyway. "When I saw you, I can't describe what I felt for you!"

"And you didn't even know who I was. Please cut the maudlin sentiments, Lupin."

"No!" I grabbed his wrists again, looking into his eyes. "I don't feel any differently now. Can't you feel it, too? Tell me there isn't something between us?"

"Whatever you're feeling, it's most likely some sort of strange animal attraction." Severus sighed. "If you want me that badly, you'll have to pay. And I know for a fact you can't afford it."

"Severus..." I couldn't let him go. "This is fate!"

"No, it isn't. And no matter what you say, I'm not going to change my mind. I have to eat, Lupin. I can't mix business with pleasure."

"This is the chance of a lifetime." I was begging now, but I didn't care. "How often do people get opportunities like this? We're soul mates, I can feel it. We were meant for each other!"

"Lupin!" Severus was exasperated. "It's obvious you're some sort of romantic fool. You've read too many stories. True life isn't like that. Even had I the remotest bit of attraction to you, it would never work. We're too different."

"So?" I refused to give up. I had never liked to give up on anything, and the harder the challenge the more I would fight. "You don't know it wouldn't work! You haven't tried..."

"You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?" he shook his head, rolling his eyes upwards.

"No." I move closer, rubbing his wrists with my thumbs. "Not until you agree to give this a try."

"You're going to regret this, Lupin." But he looked down at me, and I could see he was giving it thought. I had won, it seemed. There was no describing the way I felt, when he lowered his head to brush his lips against mine in a kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, not caring that we're in the middle of the street. I returned his kiss, my heart soaring within me. I felt complete. This was what I had been looking for. This is was what I had been searching for! I had lived my life only to love Severus, and hopefully, to be loved in return by him. He did accompany me home that night, and we made love in a way so complete I swear I hear choirs of angels singing. It was perfection, lying wrapped in his arms in that small cot overlooking the river.

Who was I to know, how horribly it would all end?

~~~~~~


End file.
